


White Lilies

by bittersweetdistractor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Magic, Non-Graphic Violence, Potterlock, Reichenbach Falls, Sherlock AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweetdistractor/pseuds/bittersweetdistractor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Potter!lock crossover ficlet. Sherlock and John, going up against He Who Must Not Be Named.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Lilies

As they surveyed the empty shell of a house, John breathed, “It’s He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s Moriarty,” Sherlock kicked away a shard of china, “and don’t give me that look. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.”

John pursed his lips and prodded at a newly found charred wand with his own, murmuring under his breath until the Dark Mark displayed over them.

“It was this wand, then. The Death Eaters are getting more careful with their own wands,” said John gravely.

“Of course they wouldn’t be using their own wands anymore. Knowing that if they get captured and their wands confiscated, they’d be proven guilty…well, even Moriarty wouldn’t be able to extract them from that situation,” Sherlock made his way into what was once a kitchen, poring over various spell books, “three inhabitants – parents and a daughter.”

“Well, I don’t think there’s much else to be done here. Better let Lestrade handle it,” John turned and walked out, with Sherlock trailing behind, “let’s get out of here, this place gives me the shivers.”

Sherlock swished his thick blue robe around him, “I’ll see you at the Ministry.”

John nodded, and with a flash of violet light, the grounds of the desolate manor were empty once more.

—

“He wants you, Sherlock,” said Lestrade, sighing.

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, “Did he tell you why?”

“He’s the greatest dark wizard since Grindelwald! Do you think that he would tell us anything? All he’s asked for is you! And violently, he carved it into some poor Muggles!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and waved his hand disparagingly, “He’s going to kill a lot more if I don’t go see him.”

Lestrade slammed his fist down on the table. Sherlock barely flinched. “You are not going after him alone!”

“You can’t tell me what to do! I’m not an Auror!”

“Dammit, you’re working under me, no matter what your job description says!”

Sherlock suddenly stood up, “I think we’re done here.”

“Think of John, at least.”

Sherlock simply walked out.

Lestrade buried his face in his hands.

—

Jim laughed maniacally as the two Muggles he had kept from the last raid struggled against their bonds, “Keep struggling, my pets. You can’t escape.”

“Um, Jim? Sorry to bother you, but…” Molly’s voice trailed off as Jim turned to look at her with what could only be described as blood thirst in his eyes.

“What is it, dearie?” he asked in a falsetto. Molly cringed.

“I..I…” she trailed off as he bent down and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, and then her bottom lip, lightly biting it, until moving away.

“What. Is. It,” Jim said, voice dangerously low.

“It’s about Sherlock Holmes.”

Jim glared before whipping around and spitting, “Crucio!” at the tied up Muggles.

Molly’s eyes widened but she dared not let herself show pity for the man and woman writhing on the floor.

Jim looked at her again. “You were saying?”

—

Sherlock faced Jim, wand out and ready. He could see the blurry outlines of other figures on the ground, where John was no doubt wondering what was happening.

“So…this was your final problem?”

Jim smirked, “I’d have thought you were more intelligent…poor Mudblood Johnny, too bad he won’t be seeing you again!”

Sherlock smiled tightly, “John is no concern of yours anymore.”

“Oh, but he is, he is,” Jim nodded thoughtfully to himself, and said, “Unless you die alongside me, my Death Eaters will be…ah, taking care of your friend.”

The taller man inhaled sharply, “I see. So it begins, so it ends.”

“Thank you, Sherlock. Thank you,” Jim giggled and before Sherlock could react, pulled out his wand and pointed it at himself, and yelled “Avada Kedavra!”

A bolt of green light blinded Sherlock for a moment. Jim Moriarty lay on the cement roof, dead.

Sherlock whirled around and pulled out his prepared suicide note for John.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

On the ground, John saw the second flash of green light, and a second figure fall.

—

John unfolded the note for the hundredth time. He had its contents memorized, but Sherlock’s elegant scrawl comforted him.

“John,” it read, “I’m a fake. I was never a consulting wizard, I’m only a master Legilimens. Nobody could be that clever. Goodbye, John.”

John let a tear drip over his face. It would do no good to cry, but there was little else he could do.

“You…you told me once that you weren’t a hero..there were times that I didn’t even think you were human. But let me tell you..you were the best wizard, the best man, the most human human being that I’ve ever known. No one will ever convince me that you lied to me..so there. I was so alone..and I owe you so much,” John placed his small offering of white lilies against the headstone, along with Sherlock’s wand. He patted the headstone, just once, before turning.

Sherlock watched John’s slumped gray figure walk away in silence.

-fin-


End file.
